Emerald (Lazuli Book #2) Harry Potter Fan Fiction (Draco Malfoy)

Chapter Five - The Veil over Hogwarts

I manage to escape when Professor Slughorn moves on to speak to the next person - surprisingly Neville. I can't help but wonder what Neville's doing here - he's not that bright and definitely isn't that good at magic. But then I remember how Slughorn likes celebrities, and Neville's parents were two of the best Aurors there were, before they were tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange until their minds were too deranged for them to recognise their own son. Maybe Slughorn thought that Neville had inherited some of his parent's bravery and magical ability.

Poor Neville, the only thing he's good at is plants.

I find Draco in the compartment occupied solely by older Slytherin students. Anyone below the fifth year has been banished, leaving only fifth, sixth and seventh years. As I pass and head towards Draco's booth, a lot of my fellow Slytherin's greet me and question me about my summer. I ignore most of them, nodding gently as those I like, and ignoring those I don't.

Draco is sat with Blaise and shockingly - Pansy. Whereas before I might have been worried, maybe even afraid of her presence, I now see that Pansy is nothing more than a spoilt little girl. She knows nothing of misery. Draco loves me. We've been to hell and back together, and nothing that a stupid, pug-like imbecile could say would change that.

I slide down into the seat next to Draco, flipping my hair over my shoulder. "Hello," Draco growls in a low, silky voice, kissing me gently. I can't help but smirk slightly in Pansy's direction, who's watching us jealously. "What did Slughorn want?" Draco asks as he pulls back and takes my hand. I shrug my shoulders. "He wants me to attend these meetings and dinner things - something about how I'm one of the best students in my year. I didn't really understand it to be honest, but everybody there either had a talent or had a famous relative."

To my surprise, Draco frowns and blurts out "was Potter there?"

I shake my head in confusion. "No, I haven't seen Harry since we arrived at Kings Cross..."

Draco glares out of the window, and I wonder what it is about Harry that's made him annoyed all of a sudden. Of course they've never gotten on, but why Draco brings up Harry now, I don't know.

Changing the subject, I turn to look at Blaise and Pansy, flashing them a forced grin. "How was your summer Blaise?"

My ex-boyfriend shrugs his slender shoulders, a typical action for him. "It was alright. Mum met a new man." I raise an eyebrow. "I thought she was still married?"

Blaise shakes his head in an uncaring fashion. His mother is infamous for having had seven husbands, all of whom had died mysteriously and left her and her son incredibly wealthy.

"No. He was out of the picture a couple of months ago. She's already planning her wedding to this new guy - poor bloke doesn't know what he's getting himself into."

Blaise's unbothered attitude is typical of him. He couldn't care less that one of the seven men who'd been married to his mother and had 'unfortunately' died had been his father, and that 6 other's had all died suspiciously. Maybe he was in on it, although Blaise didn't seem like a murderer to me. Blaise had been brought up by his mother and told that he was the only man she could trust, that all men would break a woman's heart. He'd been told that without her husbands and marriages, they'd be living in a gutter, as Mrs Zabini didn't work and would have driven the pair of them into debt without any money to pay for her cosmetics and lavish parties.

So naturally, Blaise didn't care one bit about these men. He hardly even knew their names.

I turn my attention to Pansy, and force myself to be civil. "And you Pansy?"

The she-wolf shrugs her shoulders and folds her arms across her chest. "It was fine."

I accept that that's the best answer I'm going to get from Pansy, so I leave it at that. I play boredly with the bracelet around my wrist, and Draco flings his arm over my shoulder defensively. Despite the long separation, I easily ease back into my old routine of resting my head on his shoulder. As she enters our carriage, I hear the trolley lady call out "anything off the trolley?" in her warm, old-ladies voice.